Gunshot
by SevenOverThree
Summary: In a different world, Hershel and Claire seperate under much different circumstances... Zombie apocalypse AU. Character death.


**Disclaimer**: Professor Layton belongs to Level5. I'm just playing in their sandbox, guys. ;)

**Authors note:** This was written as an experiment - that is, not the story, it's plot, or whatever-have-you - but just in general. I don't have access to a computer at the moment, so I type this from Xbox's internet app.

THAT is the experiment. To see if this story-starved author can finally, _finally_ update her fics. Well, the ones whose coming chapters aren't still isolated to thumbdrive - which are the majority. Those ones, I still need a computer for.

But anyway, enough of me. To the story!

Did I mention this is MASSIVELY AU?

* * *

They only moved during the day - only made to continue on their unending quest for safety when the sun was high and every obstical -zombie and manmade, alike- illuminated. At least, the _tried_ to only move during the day. Sometimes they couldn't find a safe enough area to camp out for the night, and would be forced to keep moving, battling fatigue and worn-out muscles as they went.

Things being as they were, food was scarce - though the two travelers generally did find enough to eat; it didn't stop the one of them - a male, young and fit - from giving more of their rations to his companion - a redheaded woman not too much younger than he was.

They'd been living like this for weeks, if not months.

"Come on, hurry up, Hershel! We've still got a way to go, yet." The redhead called to her companion; Hershel. Slowly climbing down a short cliffside - their most recent obstical -, Hershel grunted amusedly.

"You'll forgive my hesitance when it comes to scaling or decending cliffsides." He grunted again, making sure he wasn't still too far up before allowing himself to let go, dropping to the ground below him. "Or, ravines in general." The woman smiled gently; she knew what he was talking about.

"I know, but you can't let that bother you - especially not now." There was too much danger about to allow enough free time for lingering in painful memories.

"We're still heading towards that city, correct?" His companion nodded.

"Yes. And if we're lucky, we can stock up on supplies there. Maybe find some more survivors...?" They had met others like themselves - alive, well, and fighting. And more importantly, not infected. But they'd all had their own destinations in mind, so eventually they'd all departed - though it wasn't easy for any of them to seperate.

"...It _would_ be nice to find some more pockets of survivors..." He nodded, as they hurried towards the city from the outskirts they were currently in. Finding more still-healthy humans out there, alive, well, and happy, would be very refreshing and relieving.

0o0o0o0

The city, as they'd expected it to be, was filled to bursting with zombies. Hershel didn't imagine that they would find any survivors here - it was too thick with infected.

Proceeding was slow. They had to conserve what little gun ammo they had, and didn't want to risk fighting a mob with their only other weapons - a firemans axe, and a baseball bat. Didn't want to risk getting bitten. Getting infected.

For a while, they moved in silence - though mostly it was only to avoid attracting the attention of any nearby infected. Then Hershel spoke up, in a light, but longing tone of voice.

"I hope we can find a building that still has electricity. And a kettle." The woman paused, turning from observing a nearby mob of infected to stare blankly at her friend.

"...Are you _honestly_ talking about_ tea_ right now?" Hershel shrugged.

"Well, it's been a while since we've been able to share a good cup of Bella Classic, Claire." The woman shook her head, continuing to stare at him in disbelief.

"Because we've been a bit busy, Hershel. Busy with the _undead hordes_, remember? The ones right over there?" And she gestured at the mob.

"I know of the infected, Claire, yes, but I merely wished to express my desire share a cup of tea with you, should we get the chance." Claire laughed.

"Honestly, Hershel... you're unbelievable. Not even a zombie apocalypse can break you from your tea, eh?" Hershel straightened, and opened his mouth to respond - but was cut off when a high, and very young scream, echoed through the area. A childs scream.

"Claire...!" The woman nodded, pulling the shotgun from it's makeshift holster at her side.

"Looks like we'll be using this earlier than expected, darling." Not bothering to be sneaky anymore, the pair burst from the alleyway they had been hiding in - Hershel swinging his axe, and Claire firing a shotgun into the mob of infected. Both were very careful where they attacked - didn't want to hit the child.

"Wherever you are, stay hidden and out of view until it's safe!" There was no response. The pair could only hope he was still alive -and uninfected- to hear them.

The fighting was stressful - Hershel's axe often got stuck in bone, and he'd have to pause to wrench it out; during which time Claire had to cover for him, watch his back so he didn't get bitten. It had happened often enough, and for the most part they were accustomed to it. Accustomed to covering for the other when one had to pause. But this time, there were a few too many zombies, and as one of them buried it's teeth into the males shoulder, he bit back a yell.

He _could not_ worry Claire. Not here, not now. It would get her killed. Just like he already was.

Slowly - agonisingly slowly - the mob thinned. After a while, there were none left - and before Claire could even realise that her companion had been injured in the fight, they ra to where the scream had come from.

Inside a convinience store, hidden in a cupboard, was a small boy - thankfully uninjured. He wore tattered blue clothes and fought Claire off when she tried to reach for him.

"It's alright, you're safe now. They're gone, for now at least." The boy sighed shakily and fearfully; latching onto the woman before him. "Can you tell us your name?" The boy nodded.

"L-luke. Luke Triton." Claire blinked.

"Triton, Triton... Hershel, didn't you go to school with a man named Tri - Hershel!" Claire cried out in fear she caught sight of her friend. Blood was staining his shoulder from the bite wound, which Hershel was holding a hand to, in a pointless attempt to slow the bleeding. "When did you... When did this happen?" She sounded both scared, and extraordinarily upset. Hershel tried to give her a reassuring look as he responded, but it was more hollow, than reassuring.

"During the fight - one of the infected snuck up on me. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to distract you." Claire shook her head, reaching a hand out and hovering it above the wound her friend still held tightly. For a few moents, she as silent.

"I-I have some b-bandages; we can wrap it, a-and then-" Hershel sighed, and cut her off, using his free hand to stop her attempts to retrieve the bandages.

"Claire, don't."

"But you're bleeding!" She cried. Luke still held onto her, looking up worriedly at the male before him. Hershel shook his head.

"I'm already dead, Claire. My body and mind just... just have yet to realize it." Claire shook her head back and forth rapidly.

"No, I'm not... I can't... W-we can bandage it, we can... we can find a cure." Hershel sighed, taking a step away from her.

"Claire. You know as well as I do how this will end. Within hours, I will get weak, and fatigued. In a day, I will get angry; at everything and everyone. After three days I will snap at the slightest provocation. By weeks end... There will be nothing left of my mind that makes me, me." He smiled at her softly. "There is no cure; I'm already dead."

"Hershel, please. I don't want to do this." Hershel looked at the floor for a moment.

"...Do we still have that pistol? The one we've not found any spare ammunition for recently?" Claire nodded slowly, tearing gathering in her eyes.

"Y-yes, but Hershel... I refuse to-"

"I'll do it." Claire blinked at him, her eyes widening.

"No, no! Hershel Layton I refuse to let you-"

"Claire!" He yelled, making her pause. Again, he sighed. "I am already dead, Claire. Please; I wish to part under my own will." She didn't fight again; only slowly removed the pistol from her bag, and handed it to him. "I'll wait for half an hour. Please, make as much distance as you can." Claire nodded, tears now trailing down her face as she embraced him - Luke standing back. "Remeber Claire; be strong. I love you." Claire nodded as she pulled away.

"Goodbye." Hershel smirked at her as she began to head for the exit, Luke following closely behind.

"This is so long, not goodbye." For just a moment, Claire paused.

"I'll miss you, Hershel."

"As will I, you."

0o0o0o0

Nearly a half an hour later, Hershel, leaning on a wall, slid down to the floor, pistol held tightly in his hands. Claire and Luke were gone now - but how far, he'd never know. Hopefully they'd made enough distance so that they'd not hear the pistol firing. He sighed, turning the gun over and over. It had a few shots in it. He'd only need one.

He took a deep breath, and held it to his chin, closing his eyes.

"Goodbye." He told the empty room.

And then he fired.

A few blocks away, a woman, traveling now with a small child, broke down into tears as she heard the faded sound of a distant gunshot.


End file.
